


My Heart Belongs to Daddy

by Liadt



Category: Public Eye (TV), The Avengers (1960's tv), The Avengers (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, brum - Freeform, down a dark lonely street
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank finds himself down a dark  and not so lonely street,</p><p>Steed and Mrs Peel are in pursuit of a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Belongs to Daddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/gifts).



There are reasons why people go missing and there is always someone who doesn’t want to hear the reason. 

Tonight that was me. 

I was safely out of sight down the wrong end of a back alley. In a loose semi-circle around me were three men. The boss, a Mr Booth owner of ‘Booth’s Booth‘, a joint full of dancing girls to cover the fact the other things he did weren’t so pleasant to look at. Booth was middle-aged but well preserved, retaining some of the macho handsomeness of his youth. One look into those eyes proved the old saying; ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’ His two heavies didn’t have that conflict between the inside and outside, they were plain ugly through and through. The one on the right had a scar running from temple to chin that gave some definition to his face. The one on the left had a face I thought would have been a result of a vicious beating, if it wasn’t for the bruise free skin. Maybe the wind had changed. As for me, the only back up I had was the dustbins digging into the back of my legs.

“Helen’s my girl and she’ll stay that way until I say otherwise. She’s not interested in a half-pint, picture-painting kid. She’s got a man and that’s me,” said Booth, jerking a thumb angrily at himself.

As Helen was a kid herself, I thought, another kid would be more appropriate boyfriend material and not someone old enough to be her father and twice as possessive. I didn’t point this out to Booth, he had taken enough of a dislike to me already. Helen had become entangled with Booth when she had taken a job singing at his club to pay for her arts studies. Performing ‘My Heart Belongs to Daddy’ had given him ideas. His idea wasn’t to find a less disturbing term of endearment, for girls to call their sweethearts by. He turned Helen’s head by buying her the trinkets her art school squeeze couldn’t afford. By the time she had decided, in the words of another song, “Money can’t buy me love,” she was in too deep.

Booth moved towards me balling his fists. “Forget Helen and where she is. If you do see her _ex_ again one look at you’ll send him back to his crayons.”

I got the feeling Booth was going to re-model me on Lefty’s face.

“Hello? Hello there! I say, old chap, could you direct me to the Alexandra theatre? We appear to have taken a wrong turning. You couldn’t help could you or we’ll miss the third act - it’s to die for,” said a tall man wearing a bowler hat and a suit, that made Booth’s expensive threads look like it had come from a skip behind Burton’s. With Wooster was an attractive, slender auburn haired woman in a royal blue cat suit. As if Wooster wasn’t an unusual enough sight for a Brum back alley.

Booth scowled at the interruption. Both he and his goons turned their attention away from me. I could have run then, but I didn’t. Booth wasn’t the kind to think of an excuse to sent innocent interlopers on their way when he could use his fists. It wasn’t fair to let them take all of Booth’s anger - no good deed goes unpunished I’ve found.

“I’m not disturbing your night am I?” enquired Wooster, smoothing his moustache down.

“You’re in Brum and you’re holding a London A to Z. Sort them out boys, while I show Sam Spade what happens to nosey parkers,” growled Booth.

Booth grabbed the front of my mac and pulled his free arm back to belt me. Before he could strike, I snatched a bin lid from behind me and used it to deflect his punch. Booth sneered, “You’ll have to do better than that,” as the blow sent the lid bouncing down the mews. 

“How about this?” said a female voice from behind Booth. Wooster’s lady friend delivered a chop to the back of his neck with the side of her hand and he fell instantly to the ground. “Thanks,” I managed to say through my surprise. Stepping over the three fallen thugs, Wooster and his companion introduced themselves as John Steed and Mrs Emma Peel.  
“It’s a shame Mr Booth took exception to my Wooster impression, my Great Aunt adored it. I was hoping to have a chat with him,” said Steed, with an easygoing smile.

“Never trust the opinion of a relative who leaves you an empty wine cellar,” said Mrs Peel. “If I was Booth, I would have applauded the way you used your map to distract from your wayward moustache.” Mrs Peel bobbed down to pick up something. When she stood back up, she had a fake moustache on her top lip. She gave Steed a cheeky, lopsided grin and had a twinkle in her eye. 

Steed twinkled back at her. “Why, Mrs Peel, you look simply enchanting. I do believe I will be able to get a camel for you from a Sheik after all.”

“It’s fortunate you prefer fillies, Steed,” said Mrs Peel, as the ‘tache fell off her face. “Why were you wearing a ‘tache in the first place?”

“I was getting ready to go to a fancy dress party as a Russian cavalry officer when the Ministry called. Ah, I’m sorry, I’m leaving you out,” said Steed addressing me. “You don’t happen to know if Booth has any storage facilities?”

“He has a warehouse where he stores imported wine. I was searching for a missing girl there, before I investigated the club.”

“Any Champers? It’s been a long day,” asked Steed eagerly.

“Yes - Moet,” I replied. Steed might not be Wooster any more, but I wasn’t sure if this persona was an improvement.

“Sadly, it’s not for drinking purposes. Booth is a smuggler. I would tell you what of but it’s hush, hush.”

“Button lip in fact,” added Mrs Peel.

“You can’t get any more secret than that,” said Steed, as if that explained everything. I couldn’t decide if they were secret agents or eccentrics who had seen too many James Bond matinees.

“Could you take me to the warehouse? I have a car,” said Mrs Peel.

“What about me, you’re not loving and leaving me are you?”

“Hardly, I’m not married to you. Someone has to be present when Booth and his adorable friends wake up.”

“We live in changing times and it is a very dark alley,“ said Steed playfully. “I concede you have a point and I’ve never seen a cauliflower face before.”

I had an idea, loonies or not, with their fighting skills they could get Helen away from Booth‘s gang. Although that could be a moot point if Booth was sent down for illegal imports. “I’ll show you where the warehouse is if you’ll help me get my missing girl out of ‘Booth’s Booth‘.”

Steed and Mrs Peel cringed at the mention of the club’s terrible punning name.

“Of course,” said Mrs Peel.

****

After locating the hush, hush cases of wine, Mrs Peel and me zipped back to the club in her Elan convertible. Her mission complete, Mrs Peel asked about my current case. 

“Don’t worry, Mr Marker, after we’ve finished with Booth and his little operation no man will tell Helen who she can or can’t go out with again. Being a father doesn’t give anyone the right to dictate their children’s lives.”

I didn’t explain to Mrs Peel she had misheard, I was more concerned about Mrs Peel keeping her eyes on the road as she drove the wrong way up a one-way street. Besides, it was a relief to end a case on a hopeful note for a change.

**Author's Note:**

> If you recognise any names then, "Yes they are." I don't think he's handsome though, it is because 'Public Eye' is full of pretty people and I was trying to keep it canon;p


End file.
